Our Morals, Just.

[Wrynn 1349]

As Poe stared into his own eyes, he saw the clean fear rip from his own iris, as the words creaked from his own mouth, "No! Please don't kill me!", the words echoed from his mouth, ominating into his own ears. Standing, looking into his own eyes, he saw. He saw what he had become, and what he was. His morals ripping fear into his own terror, more than that any steel could deliver.

 

The thrust of the blade relinquished the fear from his eyes forever that night.

 

Walking away with his brother, he looked back to where he stood.

His own morals limiting himself.

Morals striking fear into his heart, and the blood pumped the secretion into his body.

 

That night Poe saw what he had done to himself, however not that night.

He realized what he had been doing.

His morals just, yet weak.

 

Acceptance of this, the only thing keeping him inline was the residue left behind from his morals.

The fear that had seeped into his meat, clumping into his emotions,

and forming what he knew as Poe.

 

 

 

 

((I know this wont make sense to pretty much 100% of you, but this is purely RP, and how Poe's emotions and his own alignment with his morals have been affected due to recent events, the passage above explains Poe's descent into what he would say is someone else))

[Wretched 2075]

A well dressed figure sits alone in a large, though decrepit creaking wooden chair. Around him, only desert, sand as far as the eye can see. Above him, the sun rests, scorching the lifeless landscape in which the figure sits. In one hand, he would clutch a pocket watch, in the other, a teacup. With a brief glance to the watch, he would resume his timeless waiting, humming softly to himself.

[Dohvi 622]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.